The Prince Imperial
by Alek Sands
Summary: "Live the life you could have had. One last word; to utilise your full potential. Strive to fulfil that purpose this time around. Farewell to you, Lelouch vi Britannia. Find fortune in your new existence, and live." Lelouch vi Britannia died, and is sent by the Collective Unconsciousness to be reborn as the Prince Imperial of France. AU. AH. Rated M. etc. etc.
1. Final Turn, and Anew

**The following is a non-profit, fan-based AU story. [Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion] and all related serials are owned by Sunrise Inc., Taniguchi Gorō,** **Ō** **kouchi Ichirō, Animax, and Funimation. Please support the official release. I tried removing impossible from my dictionary, but it was a little trickier than I had originally thought. There should be a word to describe something that cannot be done, but I can't seem to find it.**

* * *

"_" = Speaking.

'_' = Thoughts

( ___ ) = Translation/Other Meaning

[ _ ] = Personal Title.

["_"] = Speaking via Alternate Means.

{"_"} = Geass Command

 **Bold** = Date and Location

 _Italic =_ Other Narrative

* * *

 **21st September a.t.b 2018. Shibuya, Tokyo Sector, Britannian Occupied Japan**

"Yes; _I . . . destroyed the world, . . . and . . . created_ it _. . ._ anew."

And thus, I closed my eyes upon the world for the last time. I embraced the overcoming darkness with the last of my breath slipping through the passage between my lips. My heart fell silent beside the wound gapping from my chest to my back. And, after glimpsing once last time to the great tapestry they wove my past until my present, my brain ceased function with the images of Nunnally, Suzaku, and I smiling in our childhood in the pre-Britannian Japan of my memories.

'Ahhh. Such . . . halcyon days. Why did they have to end this way?'

And then, I was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . .

.

* * *

 **?. ?**

.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"*gasp* . . . "

Imagine my surprise when I realised that I wasn't dead. Or, not yet anyways.

When I say I wasn't dead, I only meant it in a figurative sense; when one is struck through with a sword so far that it pierces not only one's heart and left lung, but penetrates all the way through until it breaks the skin which mantles the back. When such a strike has been afflicted, one is usually deceased mere minutes at the most after happening upon the receiving end.

I knew of the pain that cut through my chest. The blood that painted my right hand, that held to my wound, that marked the mask I once possessed, and then stroked the Imperial Jack along with the rest of my body as I fell first forward and then upon my back, down the front of my second coronary float parading down the main street of my provisional capital of Tokyo.

The darkness that caught me second by second after that fall was real. The sudden tiredness that enveloped me, made my eyes grow heavy and my breath so slow and so cold as the heat was drained through a filter.

There was no possible way I could have survived. Was there?

No.

No, no no.

There was, but I dare not jinx my fate by speaking its name aloud.

It was true that I had achieved all the necessary criteria to reach that stage, but even so, this would not explain this place I was in now. Despite my little knowing of the true power bestowed by God to humanity, I doubted that this place was part of that same process.

If I looked down, all I could see was a thick fog that curls against my ankles and buried my feet. But, if I looked even harder downwards, there was some form of mirror beneath my feet.

Purple eyes.

Yes, I checked to see if my contacts were still in place, but that was not the case. The reflection of amethyst staring back instead of ruby was true as far as my sight and touch could detect.

Speaking of –

*pat*pat*pat* . . . 'Huh?'

I reached for my chest, but I was shocked to find no hole beneath my clothes-, wait? Why wasn't I in my imperial garbs?

Instead of the white robes of the Britannian emperor stained red where a sword wound should have easily been left untampered with, I was in my school uniform; black with gold, trouser and gakuran. I opened the top button, and was wearing the long sleeved white shirt underneath. I was definitely wearing my uniform. But neither this nor that explained what I was doing here.

The bigger question would why I was able to ponder all this when I should be dead.

I gave myself a thorough inspection through the mirror-like floor. I will not go into the details of me undressing myself, only that I was very thorough and made sure I was able to inspect every patch of skin available on my person.

Least to say, I found no sign of a red bird tattooed anywhere.

Neither on my forehead, nor my right hand. And neither could it be found anywhere else I checked. Save for an array of places I could not get a proper view of, which I shall not delve into for the sake of avoiding speaking of profanity in my dialogue where it is best left unsaid, I was clear of Code.

Though it did put my mind at ease, it could not explain how such a state of being could have transpired. Had this been the work of Code, all my obvious questions would not need a definitive answer. A Geass no longer present. A wound that would no longer exist-, well, judging from what I seen of C.C., there should have at least been this scar to mark the end of my mortal life.

No. This is definitely not the work of Code. So I am still looking as maybe seventy-two other possibilities, with only seven being even remotely plausible and meeting at least two criteria based on this situation.

I still have no answers as to this place though. Even while I am thinking about it, the clouds start disappearing.

I put my clothes back on, but I take not to only do up my second button. Why? Because Code obviously isn't the right answer to this question, so I need to remind myself that I am on my second guess now. When I run out of buttons to count with, I may need to roll up my sleeves, but four extra guesses make no contribution to me as of right now.

Nothing natural can explain why I am wearing clothes other than what I should have died in, unless I have woken up days later. But, I will leave that thought for late into this game.

I have no wound where I was obviously killed, yet I cannot reproduce my Geass. Therefore, I think it's best to assume I am definitely deceased.

My mind is still active though. I am able to consciously think, so that means I am at least aware of that much. I know I can move, and I still retain my senses, so being a ghost or a zombie is a bit of a stretch.

'Hmm.'

I am dead, but I am not undead. I am here, but I am nowhere also.

This place. It doesn't appear to be a place of confinement. I see no horizon, nor do I see any walls or a ceiling above my head. All I am able to see is an endless procession of stars. Black and blue and purple, and white glittering the sky, the land and space that lies between the two.

Logic meant nothing here, I could say with about an 83% certainty. I had died, but I didn't become immortal, which means I must have been transported somewhere else.

With no wound, was I even sure that my body had come with me. That was a thought I pondered upon as I switched my button from my first unto my second.

This certainly wasn't the Thought Elevator, of which I bore witness to the gods of our world, the Collective Unconciousness of Mankind. The dead who ruled over the living as a single entity. Both the Code and the Geass originated there, but this place was not it.

Unlike the unbounded skies of the day, this place was of night, and there were no such constructs that gave evidence to anything living here. This almost glass floor beneath my feet stretched for beyond measurements that it became impossible to get lost when nothing existing in this plain supported the notion that anything permanent was, or even could be made in this dwelling of Amekhania.

I took off my second button when I concluded that this was not the residence of the Collective Unconscious. But, as I fixed my third button, I thought to the difference between experience the living and the dead may look towards the same landscapes;

Perhaps, just like night and day are the same sights but from two different times, this realm beyond the reach of the living was the perception of the dead. I had already affirmed that my demise was still the most likely catalyst for my presence here. If I had truly descended from the world of the living, then that would make this place a home for the demised.

Yes. I may have reached an idea that has comprehension.

Judging my how little existed here, and none of the grandiose one might come to picture the other side of the Styx, I had to assign a name for this place of which I had now become an apparent prisoner within.

"Neither Heaven nor Hell. And I see no such method of atonement in sight, thus this cannot be Purgatory either. Perhaps, Limbo?"

Neither a world of reward or punishment, but a world where there is no such response to the actions of one's life. Without the human perception of glorious rays and fiery brimstone, that would make this place closer the realm of the dead who were neither considered righteous to be received nor diabolic to be tortured until the rapture.

Limbo. A world where the dead wander aimlessly without avail. Forever without rest until they eventually lose that which constitutes an identity. An endless void beyond the reaches of God or the Devil.

No. Maybe not. Limbo was also a place of transitioning. I had already concluded that there was nothing awaiting me here. Perhaps the Asphodel Meadows would suit this place in title better.

No. Not that either. I destroyed the world and created it anew. I was more than simply ordinary. I had ascended far past that by receiving the Power of the Kings. Even earlier still, I was a Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire. The endless darkened fields of wheat were not a place to confine me among other like minds who contributed little and whose existences would be forgotten once those close to them had passed as well.

No, wait.

While this was not an obvious form of punishment. Perhaps, this realm was a section of Tartarus itself. A hole of damnation that was especially tailored to each a person by the nature of their crimes.

'Ha-haha'

Perhaps this is more fitting more one such as me. Though I played the Demon Emperor until my own arranged death for the benefit of mankind's strive for a better future, I still committed so many atrocities that only fuels the number of sins prefixed to my record. A small part of me was willing to accept damnation after death, but being forced to live consciously in a world of perpetual silence for eternity suited me better as a form of punishment.

"Placing me in permanent isolation, and allowing my own thoughts to slowly drive me to the depths of madness. Yes. A fitting end to the legacy that is Lelouch vi Britannia, the man who destroyed the world. Truly, this is what defines the meaning 'Divine Punishment'. To have ruled over all, and now-"

\- _You may call it as you wish. We have no such use for names here, where everything is eternal._ –

'Huh?'

That wasn't my words, nor was it my thoughts that spoke out in this vast and empty nothing. I spun my head in every direction I thought was possible, but the originator could not be locked down. It was irritating me more than it puzzled me.

No, there was definitely no one here. But, that couldn't have been my imagination. Though I bear no concept of time here without anything to here that would even allow me to track its progression, I was certain based on my own experience with the passing of seconds that the development of schizophrenia under isolated conditions couldn't have occurred since my conscious awareness has not been awake for more than an hour at best.

Right. Time for the forth button to be put to good use then;

I am now hearing a voice. Though I am aware that the implications of Geass links them to the Code that bore it, this is not the same however for two reasons: The first is obvious since my Geass is apparently gone, and neither do I have the Code anywhere on my body, therefore I must erase that possibility as I have done already. The second is also obvious, considering my Code contractor is, or maybe it should be was, C.C. But, I know for a fact that this voice does not belong to her.

Her response would have been more snarky and would have talked down to me like a child. That's how well I know my witch. This voice, while feminine, was not hers. Nor was this voice from someone familiar to me, which was unlikely to begin with but never was it impossible until now.

I don't recognise the voice at all, so it is not one I am familiar with nor one that I would interacted with while I was still alive. I couldn't see nor could my ears detect where the voice originated from so I was best left placing this unknown entity as a part of this plain of space itself for the time being.

That only leads to more questions. One of the more pressing being why would they place me in this place of isolation to begin with? However, since I likely will not be-

\- _Isolation was necessary. We needed to speak with you, so we allowed you to awaken here._ –

Wait? That voice again. No, don't tell me. Was . . . was she reading my mind. I wasn't even saying anything.

\- _Speaking vocally is not required in this plain beyond existence. Think openly to your heart's content. We can always hear it. We already hear it._ –

Well, this will certainly make asking questions easier, despite how uncomforting the notion that this being standing before me was already inside my head. After Mao, having another know my thoughts wasn't something that gave me much comfort. Especially when I couldn't see that person in front of me.

\- _If that is what you wish, then we shall allow._ –

Wait, allow what?

I turned my head in a fury, but I was caught completely off my guard the coming of a new existence unfamiliar to this environment. No. That was incorrect. This new appearance was perfectly suited and adapted to this endlessly expanding abyss of starlit space.

There, now in front of me, I could see where the voice was coming from, but it was not as I had expected; though the voice I had identified was feminine, the figure appeared closer to androgynous, but did clearly favour the fairer sex. Hair that was black but pink at its tips- is it?

Could this be some form of visual interference, but even though my mind is certain that I am seeing black and pink, I can't help but think that I am wrong at the same time. The black, could also be midnight blue, or perhaps a very darks shade of tyrian purple, the latter making more sense to explain that transition to pink at the tips of the hair.

Is it pink, or just what I am perceiving as pink though?

Her, or its eyes were pink, but not albino pink. I am really starting to get annoyed with this consistent inconsistencies on this logic-less delusion I am caged within. The sooner I eliminate my presence from this realm of contra-law, the sooner I can fix my mind at ease, even if it means the end of my existence.

I no longer need that fourth button for deducing what this being is, now that I can simply ask it.

"What are you?"

Though she was in front of me, her voice reached me from the side. I turned to see her there also, but then her form that stood in front of me had gone. I am unsure whether to remain sceptic of such intentions or whether to be amazed at the possibilities provided by a world where common sense have no say in what can and cannot be possible.

\- _We are not. We simply am. We exist, and that is all we are._ –

Speaking in plural identifiers while using singular grammar. Interesting. Also, her mouth never even opened, and yet her voice wasn't planted into my mind. Again, logic and law don't exist nor dictate this world apparently. Whatever this being is it would probably closer to say she was no not human.

I wouldn't go as far to declare her God or anything of the sort. Not yet.

"Why assume a form if you are?"

\- _A form is easier when communicating with those who have recently crossed. We believed that a disembodied voice would only delay our conversations further_. –

A consideration to my own preferences. Well, considering that I think of myself as a man of logic over trying to understand that which is beyond the reach of mankind, I guess this . . . being understood me quite well.

But what to label this enigmas being? She seemed considerate enough to be essentially taking care of my smallest of needs when speaking towards m- . . . _Taking care_.

Now that is an idea.

"You are a caretaker?"

She twitched her head to the side, but was now standing behind me rather than in front where I least expected to see her.

\- _Yes. We are a caretaker. A caretaker of space-time, would best describe us. We manage until everything ceases. That is all._ –

A caretaker of space-time. Intriguing to say the least. Though she continues to refer to herself as 'we' and 'us', her speech pattern was also evident to use singular grammar when using these plural terms. While her etiquette appeared to be severely lacking, I was sensing no sense of a trap being planted, and yet my ever cautious self-conscious was screaming for suspicion-

\- _We suggest moving forward passed the deductions of an existence such as ourself. You will reach neither an ending nor a continuation to your questions. We can guarantee, for we already know._ –

That bluntness. I see, not even a caretaker has any patience for the recently deceased, though I would probably be cranky if this was job until the end of all existences.

It is especially of this one that openly invades my thoughts like such connections to neurological links were intercept able without having first removed my cranium from my skull and prodding it in multiple places with needles attached to wire and linking those into several separate computers.

Then again, a psychic link wasn't farfetched enough to be impossible, nor was it improbable from what little I obtained from that witch.

"I will cut to the chase then; what is the purpose for our meeting, or is this simply how the living re-join the deceased?"

\- _We do not intervene. We simply hold no control passed death. We do not touch. We do not interfere. We merely allow. The dead arrive to another plain and they become one with us. History. Personality. Hopes. Dreams. Wishes. Independence. All is surrendered and lost. We do not know of internal conflict, for we are all one and the same. There is no I or you. There is no he, she or it. There is no them nor is there one. There is simply we and us._ –

"And the reason for why I am still I and not us?"

\- _We do not intervene because we cannot. We do not intervene because we choose not to._ –

I twitched my eyes to this being's answers. It was getting irritating with all this cryptic nonsense that immortals seemed to hold unto like a sacred covenant in some manner of form.

"This was one of those times?"

\- _That is correct. One of few times out of many chances offered before us. Others we have turned our nose up and brushed from our shoulder_.-

"But not this time?"

\- _Not this time._ –

She started walking off as she continued talking. Though I hadn't really taken too much notice, there clapping of her shoes on the floor echoed through this empty space. Even if sight below the ankles remained invisible to the naked eye in the thick streams of smoke that layered the ground, it wasn't at all affected by her walking as it had been when I moved to make space for a mirror in its true reflective surface.

Her actions were more ghost-like than that of deist nature; though she made sounds of moving, and her actions proved she moved through this world like any sentient being does. She could not alter the physical environment. Not this environment to be more specific, even if this was in a broad sense as physical as the world I had cut my ties from.

\- _As long as all continues, we have no qualms with what the living choose to do. If it was to be our fate to die upon Akasha's blade, than all would have been so. We who hold no control over how time progresses simply follow the stream wherever it may take us. Be it to the great oceans at the end of the currents, or caught prematurely by those who wish to deny our natural freedom -_

Yes; or that that bastard of an emperor. _The late emperor_. How dare he to call himself a father after abandoning his children. _All_ his children. Not just Nunnally and I, and not even those few siblings of ours that I actually gave a damn about. He called this world a mundane affair. Mundane. He was the emperor, and he abandoned his empire and all imperial citizens.

He wanted to remove a world that lies to each other, but his tongue was heavier than his jaw having had dipped itself so deep in molten silver that his internal entirety were nothing more than a cold metal shell, empty and hollow of anything except for the inescapable echo ricocheting inside its metal casket.

It becomes the irony when the greatest liar of them all, greater even than I, was the one man who knew the all the truth that had ever been spoken.

Not just he. No, not only was it him who lied to us. My crusade for truth uncovered more than just the emperor's lies, but even the lies that demoness wearing a terracotta smile that puts the self-imposed moniker of [Demon Emperor] to shame.

Then again, I suppose the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. Just far away enough to realise the true needs of humanity. More so than the rotting conifer that stood in his faux mockery of Eden thinking it was Yggdrasil itself holding the nine worlds upon his shoulders like the self-righteous saint he wanted to pretend he was. And, even more so than the venomous snake that clambered through his branches disguised by the mass of aging leaves and only slithering out to hiss honey whispers of devilry.

"A premature death is such a cruel fate, is it not?"

I snapped from my continuous allegory of metaphors and colourful similes when a voice echoes through the nothingness. The voice wasn't mine. It belonged to the enigmatic figure stewarding this empty realm, who up until this point had spoken whilst neglecting to open her mouth.

"You spoke?"

She smiled back, if you could call that mocking smirk a representation of human kindness. Ok; so perhaps it wasn't to interpreted as a sign of demeaning my reaction, but an omniscient being with such longevity often seem to forget that youth is plagued with inexperience that could never be obtained in comparison.

In her eyes, like a witch I used to know, I would always be compared next to an adolescent, even should I have had the luck of life to have lived until I was a centenarian before passing over. My surprise and shock was no unbelievable reaction toward disbelief that I could have attained by experience. Switching between a speaking through the mind with communication via the mouth and the vocal cords was not a task achievable by any born of flesh and physical matter.

What was this treat she was now hanging over me? A small measure of power? No; it was too minor and too inconvenient to show this level of ability after everything that had come to pass since my consciousness awoke here. The telepathic exchange had been more than sufficient of an explanation.

Was this a thank you? A-

"We do not thank. We hold no such need to offer thanks. Though we no longer hold concept to gratitude or appreciation, we do know how to convey respect. We acknowledge that we respect the actions that partook that day when you shattered the sword created to destroy everything that was us, our bane, and allowed for the universe to continue as it was. We were spared by you."

Not a thank you . . . but an acknowledgement of actions? I guess much as how gods are exempt of human emotions such as guilt, gratitude and other related feelings that would attribute themselves lowly compared to humanity was also exempt from their list of abilities.

What surprised me next was something I had never expected of God; despite dressing herself in an outfit more or less unclear to my sights except that it was dyed blacker than the night sky and was tightly wrapped close to the outline of her chosen body shape. Perhaps even deliberately skin tight as it was metaphysical.

If I looked close enough, there were pink lines that formed the hem and boundaries between each articles of clothing, in the form of the bird which personified the image of Code and its progeny Geass.

Despite her outfit being close to skin tight, what amazed me was not her courtesy, though I assumed this was just a formality and not something that held too much sincerity, but how she was able to grip the sides of her dress and pull them from her hips until they formed the hem of a skirt.

It takes all of my willpower to force myself to remember that I am basically speaking with one who works outside the boundaries of physical laws.

Now equipped a dress line that had easability to tug with great lengths, she mimicked accurately what appeared to be a noblewoman's curtsey. My mind cast itself back into my deepest and furthest memories, as I was reminded of years ago when we were still royals, Nunnally and I;

It was the morning before the night we accidently broke our mother's ceremonial plate, in late August a.t.b. 2007. It was when we stayed the night at the Zagan Palace, where Euphemia and Cornelia had lived with their mother, the late empress Victoria. Late only because she was not warned to leave Pendragon before Schneizel let loose the sword over the Damocles' throne. I remember Nunnally pestering Euphie over what she was learning, more specifically all the fancy greetings and all the "lady" things that Nunna was too young at the time to start learning.

Euphie was more the happy to show our little sister all the stuff "the noble girls are learning in the court". She listed off all the various types of forks and spoons and knives that were available for each meal, but had difficulty name or remembering what each utensil was meant to be used when eating a particular meal. There was also some coded messages involving fans, but she only remembered the two that said "hello" and "until we meet again", and one that was an attempt to say "I love you", but she confused it with "I'm shy" after accidently putting the fan into her left hand without being able to angle it to reach her heart.

Do not ask why I would happen to know such things. Our . . . _mother_ , liked to dress me up before Nunnally was born, and I will say nothing further.

There were few numbers she could recall, like _floriography_ (the language of flowers) and the postural correction walk which she demonstrated with a pillow in substitute to a book. But the curtsey was the one that I remember with the most vigour. I wouldn't exactly recall it as pleasant, so myself that is.

For a nine year old girl with a ditsy attention span, it wasn't a bad form or a poorly crafted execution, but it was easily understandable that she would have gotten parts of the form wrong in her demonstration. Even at a young age, I was a perfectionist, and the sight of her performing something I thought so simple that primates could have been taught it step by step. I of course chastise her, but I was put on the spot when she challenged myself to do it better.

I'm embarrassed to say despite her being a year younger than I was, we were the same cloth sizes so putting on her dress was much easier than it should have been. Nevertheless, I performed well enough based on what I could remember from merely observing, but I later had to contend with having both my younger sister wanting to smother me with make-up to complete the picture. I was honestly too easily broken by their softness.

It was also the first time I had been tricked into wearing women's clothing, excluding the times before the incident when I had no choice in the matter and before I could remember. I cannot say that I am proud to know that this was the only time I had done so ignorantly willing without realising the implications that would unfold later in my life.

I should have known that word of mouth would eventually reach Milly at some point, but I never thought much upon consequences in those days.

"As we on behalf of who represent the entirety that is us, this form we formally expresses recognition that we are indebted to your actions."

Recognition of indebtitude, with a mimicry of a lady's formal bow. Well, for a being that cannot understand complicated human emotions, I will take whatever substitute for gratitude when it comes around, as I am sorely lacking of the sort as of recent times. With a wave of her hand, she could probably just as easily cast aside the waves and create a land bridge out of the Red Sea. Or, perhaps push the boulder across Yomi and chain the angel Thanatos to prevent the plight of death's door kno-

"We do not hold such power. Though we granted the gift that is Geass upon the humans to allow evolution to come about, we are not all powerful. Death is not conquerable. Death is neither avoidable nor is it defiable. What has already passed from life cannot be returned to life. You, Lelouch vi Britannia, are deceased. You cannot regain who you once were, for the person you lived as is already dead."

Well, that certainly answered the question to whether an omnipresent being was omnipotent where it was omniscient and lacking in omnibenevolence. Though many cults in Britannia held to the idea of god, it was very well an atheist state within the "Holy" Britannian Empire, save for worship of St. Charles Darwin of course.

I remember the Empire of Japan in its declining years having suffered a state of godlessness when the imperial family had died out. Not even a long descended shogunate clan like the Kururugi or Sumeragi families could hold the same prestige to re-invite the Shinto pantheon back into old Japan despite being almost royalty themselves.

The Chinese Federation held their emperor like a god, but that was a ploy invoked by the greedy eunuchs to hold onto power absolute. For the Euro Universe, I have no real understanding if their God still lives or if it had become a dying fad among the bureaucrats and realists who were waging a two sided war against the Britannians to their West and the puppet state Euro Britannia in the East.

Well, enough about belief. Belief isn't exactly a factor here and now when my own hold on what is real very well non-existent in front of God herself if-. You know what I already know the answer to my own question.

But, not to this question however. It's been bugging me since the late emperor's demise, and I have been left clueless to anything that may have had a piece of red string tied to it.

"And, what of the Code?"

I had been the one to have killed the former Emperor. I had perfected my form of Geass to its maximal potential; having beseeched the collective conscience of all of former humanity to abide by my will. By the natural law of passing the torch, I was . . . unrestful not knowing the ultimate fate of the mark of immortality he had once bore upon his right hand.

The same right hand that attempted to choke the life from my neck, before I banished him to the furthest essence. Perhaps banished him even further than that; through the door of night, beyond the walls of the world, and into the timeless void beyond creation.

Her answer, came as a shock. No. It filled me with almost insatiable rage a fear knowing that I failed to remove that stain from humanity's grasp.

"The Code bore by Charles zi Britannia has already passed to its next natural wielder. A Code cannot be plundered by a Geass of a separate creation. A branch may not bear the fruit of another tree that is not the same one it grows from. It is not our rule, for it is simply nature."

I gritted my teeth. While I was certainly not in the right to demand that God herself change the outcome of that exchange in my own favour, it irked my conscience to know that I had failed in one goal; the destruction of the Geass Directorate.

The former emperor's little pet project on the side of the eradication of individuals. My raid. It cost me dearly; the trust of my comrades in the Black Knights among others. I destroyed evil, a very thick and ancient root of evil growing the decaying corpse that was the old Chinese Federation under their very eyes. I destroyed them all, or so I thought.

To demand that- . I had thought my purge had been thorough. But it would seem that even the smallest of rats escape and hide until the danger is all clear. Now, I am no longer able to stop them. I purged the Geass Directorate to ensure that the code bore by the Emperor and V.V. would go extinct and would never be passed on again.

To think, that all that blood, was wasted.

"We appear to continue diverging away from the obvious questions."

"Indeed."

Well, it seems that our understandings have at last aligned. While I must say that it has a grievous chore wandering back through triumphs and failures, I suppose that my time was finally up. Despite knowing that I am not meeting a pitch black darkness of nothingness, nor wandering through the empty meadows of Asphodel.

"Though death is absolute, there is always a requirement for souls to re-join the living to walk again across the earth. A vessel without a soul cannot partake the path which is life unless one recycles those who have already passed generations before."

"You mean reincarnation?"

In a non-religious world like mine, reincarnation was just a theorem past down from ancient philosophers, but the vital understanding was that the spirit was trapped in a cycle of dying and rebirth, each life pertaining greatly or poorly depending on the actions of a previous life.

It's merely a brief summary of a more complicated and collected research of many individuals even to the age of machines who continued to probe the notion that there is a soul and that its metaphysical form is eternal. I on the other hand paid as little attention to it. Its benefits to aid my overthrow of the old Britannian governing entity couldn't be fought with or rebuilt upon the foundations of a false hope for those who cower before the trumpeting of the pale rider.

Now that's a thought; Deathmongers fearing death.

'Heh'

My own thoughts chuckled at the notion.

I despised those who believe themselves righteous to murder and slaughter those in their path without the gall to do it themselves at the risk of being killed consequently. I even constructed an entire personal philosophy around defying that notion to be purposely critical against them;

'The only ones who should kill, are those who are willing to be killed themselves.'

I changed the wording of it so often, but my general resolve to that. That, and the leaders who use a wall of bodies as a shield while expecting their undying fealty. I rejected that also and built up a second philosophy I often used as a distraction against those upturned nobles who quizzed the idea of moving a king piece into the line of fire;

'If the king does not lead, how will he expect his troops to follow?'

Did they, those self-righteous nobles and paper soldiers, forget the etymology origin of the word 'leader' by unconsciously following an invisible farce in their mottled fleeces?

"We do. We, who are the steward of the other realm, are offering you another life to walk."

"Why?"

Her head twisted and looked away, as if there was a distance or a horizon that could have caught her line of sight more clearly than what was formerly in front of her. Her posture, looked deliberately girlish which only set to confuse me; her head was leaning back, arms cross and hands cuffed also behind her back, and her right foot anchored by the toes.

It was only when her head , did I catch on to the memory that was over laying my physical and mental perception; as her black hair with pink tips fell over her shoulder, it looked as if it turned to green and fell in greater lengths. As her eyes turned from the nothingness far beyond reach, they blinked and gold stared back instead of pink.

"A premature death is a cruel fate, is it not?"

I blinked a couple of times, at I awoke from my brief lapse, and everything I was seeing returned to how it should have been.

That sideways smirk. It appears as though omniscience is also based knowing the course of the future to an extent if this simple use of repetition was to be believed to indicate a sign of pre-destiny.

"You who died before his time by his own choices left a greater impact upon the world than was ever intended for him. To say that we were intrigued by this does not comprehend the weight behind we who are more numerous that the living. We who no longer hold to the selves we were once, twice, or perhaps thrice before, and who no longer hold the capabilities to seek or desire, we were intrigued by you, Lelouch vi Britannia."

Despite being dead, it would appear that not even one's humour ceases even in the afterlife. As many times as I was being informed, I was finding my own amusement in these insightful discussions. Living has only ever provided me with few people who could display such high levels of intellect; one is a slave to obedience, one is slowly wasting to the ailments failing his body, another died as a repercussion of fratricide apparently, and one is supposedly riding her wagon into the obscurity.

It appears I have a fifth in front of me, but that's just my own arrogance getting in the way of admitting that she is leagues beyond simple sapience.

"I would thank you for the flattery, for I am truly honoured. However, I do not believe that you are capable of flattering, am I correct?"

"There is truth in your observation. Flattery is not within our capacity."

Her right hand pulled upwards to her shoulder, and then it unfurled like a red carpet until it was underhandedly offered in my direction as it straightened out.

"As recognition for preserving us, instead of losing what made you the person who now stands between the living and the dead, we will allow you to retain what is in its essence you, just as you preserved that which is ultimately us."

A back scratch for a back scratch. That was what she was implying. It wasn't exactly a favour because they were not thankful, nor able to emotionally process what we would call 'owing someone'. That stems from a sort of positive moral guilt that compels people to help one another while still retaining a selfish mind-set. And, as mentioned earlier, gods do not feel guilt and can only closely associate a similar emotion known as pity.

Perhaps a collection of beings that were once or twice or many times over human was still actively collectively able to understand these very concepts, even if they were no longer able to embrace them.

But, what is in its essence me? What did that entail, more specifically?

"Will I still be me, I mean myself? When I am reborn, does that mean I will still be Lelouch?"

"No" she answered, but it felt like the response would have been handled better had she simply shook her head rather than ominously release a short reply. "We cannot send a soul back to an original body as we have already said, neither do we hold the power to reverse the natural progression."

Her hand, her right hand was held out in front of her and her left clasped over the top. It was difficult to predict what an omnipotent being could accomplish in the middle of granting my question and explanation. Only when her hands separated and a piece of starlight caught in between was apparently born. It was too bright to look at directly, and I instinct covered my right eye to shield it from the pain.

My left looked on as it adjusted to the new illumination, and that shard of celestial dust now appeared like a tiny terracotta doll slowly rotating counter clockwise within her palms. It wasn't male or female, but not distinctly androgynous like she was. It especially wasn't hermaphroditic either, but only in shape was it human and no other distinct features were at all present.

Despite being made of solid light, it seemed fluid and gaseous as light rippled and perfumed like clouds as if the form itself was only filling a hollow mould invisible to the eye.

I released my right eye from the shade of my hand and I saw, maybe, a glass-like transparent shell that held all the features that made this idol remotely lifelike. It wasn't the same all the time, as I learnt by continuously casting my gaze over and away from it to find that it changed in features while the body of light remained unchanged.

"Your soul has already died once in that same world. Placing it back before its demise upsets the natural course of time itself. You will be placed into a new body instead. Though you will be given a new name, a new face, and a new life, everything that still defines what makes you an individual will remain intact instead of being erased. An experience of one's life time, never to be lost in transition unlike all the others."

She crushed her hands together, and the form vanished. Though, I was keeping my attention elsewhere while I thought over the proposal;

It is tempting; the idea that I could return back to life. I was initially doubtful having already sacrificed my own future do that the rest of the living may have theirs in a world forged to desire a peace of unity against a common evil. The [Demon Emperor]. I doubt I would have been allowed out in public without a stake beneath my neck as the mob carried what was left of me through the streets. Terrifying how efficiently I executed my rise in infamy, and my own execution as a curtain call.

I could see them all again, if I wanted; Nunnally, Suzaku, Rivalz, Milly, Kallen, Jeremiah, Sayako. I could meet them all again at least once, even if they don't know it's me they're talking to. Perhaps, just maybe, I might be able to give Gino and Anya a chance after having deliberately pushed away from them since they were the emperor's knights. If either one of them if not both are still serving under my little sister, it's the least I could do. I never got the chance to apologise to Cornelia, for what I did to Euphie. She did love our sister more that I obviously did. Perhaps, I could finally give that long overdue amendment even by a third person anonymous means.

I could do tha-

. . . Wait. No. No, what am I thinking?

I could see my right hand had slowly started reaching out to take the offer, but now I reflexed my fingers halfway into a closed fist.

The truth was, I didn't want to die. I never wished to end my life prematurely.

There was so many things I wanted to do; as Holy Britannian Emperor, I wanted to do so many more reforms. I already removed the oligarchy and the spoiled royals who crawled and schemed and stepped over anyone possible just to climb a little higher. Certainly, there were innocents or ignorants among them, but there is no such absolute good just as there is no absolute evil expect in fantasy and fiction.

Britannia joining the United Federation was only one step from the bigger picture. With its resources and its technological advantage, the Black Knights would have no problem policing the world. I'll admit that its resolution still had many flaws in it, but after rectifying a few mistakes and making corrections based on situations as they come about is how a constitution is written. Within two, maybe five years, the U.F.N. would have achieved the peace that it always desired.

And while my death had been a catalyst for creating peace after the whole world was under one tyrannical leadership, there would only be a certain lapse in time where the world would wish to be holding hands together to when they regain the confidence to fulfil their own independent ambitions again.

There were also no leaders after I overthrew the world. Only the monarchies have any clear definitive succession after me. But the democracies would be in a state of turmoil, and there was only so long before one man or woman takes the military to the- No. There were no militaries, only terrorist and rebels. No standing army wold storm the government buildings after Britannian dominance is destroyed. The rabble and mobs would fight each other and claw for the chair until only those still holding the country at gunpoint remain seated.

. . . Oh God. Why was I only thinking about this now?

Did . . . did I just remake the world worse off than how it w-

No. That's enough of that. If I had done nothing, the world would be stuck with an endless wilderness of crumbling masks under the former emperor's rule, or a world caught in perpetual circles in an endless present loop with Schneizel holding the key to Damocles.

I fought for a future. And, I entrusted it to the whole world.

Even if what I say is how it will truly come about, I have to believe that they will look for their happiness and not each other's miseries. They are not machines. They have hearts and minds, and I need to believe that humanity is better than this.

As I am just looking at my own hand opening and closing, I am caught between releasing these thought and throwing my fate back into the hands of this God. Or, I crush it, and willingly step back from the world I once knew before I slowly fade away in this empty post-existence.

I have said already that I never truly wished to die. It was necessary, but in truth death was a terrifying thought since we began the Zero Requiem. I didn't know what I would expect to find, or even if I was ever going to see an ending to the black tunnel I fell into by the stroke of a sword.

If I didn't believe that I could do no more for this new world.

If I didn't believe that I was necessary evil that needed to stay dead rather than return.

If I didn't believe that the world would not turn for the brighter future on their own, without my intervention. Then, I would have reached out my hand and snatched that offer.

But, I retracted my hand, knowing that it was the morally right choice.

"No, thank you."

Though I shook my head in resignation, it appeared that the so called omnipotent one wasn't too understanding of human behaviour.

"We request that you repeat your answer, for we wish to know why you have turned us down."

There was no change in expression, not even a twitch in the eye. It was almost like I was talking back to a doll again, except without the rotary of recorded sentences at the end of a cord. I considered that perhaps the Caretaker generally curious and possibly in confusion toward my answer despite being unable to show it efficiently.

But, then I reconsidered again the more logical conclusion that she was closer on par to Laplace's Demon, and that her question was merely a guise to hear whether or not the choice I was deciding upon was within her reasonable comprehension of logic.

As I rubbed down my aching right hand having borne the brunt of my weighty decision, I allowed my thoughts to be said aloud rather than continue to hoard them within my head.

"If I were to return and still be me, then would I really be living, or simply holding on again to an existence that I was once a part of? Life is not something you can simply stretch or extend. Life comes and goes when it should, even when you perish one's self earlier than what was intended had you stayed your hand. I chose to die on my time, by my own terms. If I now throw away that same resolve, then everything that I had sought to create through my death would lose all meaning. It is just as you said; Lelouch vi Britannia is deceased. Even if I were to take up another name and live in another's body, still being myself would inevitably lead me down the road leading to Ragnarök again rather than to the days of halcyon."

My eyes started itching, so I turned around. But, it was futile to try and hide the irritation from a being that could at any point decide to just simple apparate in front of me. I rubbed and scratched them while I tried to hold my tone before the unfortunate gawking of congestion overwhelmed my nasal cavities.

As I attempted the massage the sinuses before I lost my sense of smell, I began speaking of

"A world of Geass which infiltrates and overrides freewill. Code which turns the meaning of life to mere existence. Technology powered by sakuradite capable of bringing life to moving constructs of metal. F.L.E.I.J.A.s that can level the very existence of a single space, and its Eliminator which defies even the power to destroy mankind tenfold. Having a dangerous man like myself who has stained his hand upon all of these sensitive powers co-exist in a world I wished to create. This which I signed with my last breath and last beat of my heart, and these hands of red."

I had removed my hands from my face and I stared into them; though they were not red physically as I had called them, the poetic metaphor had always been there. Fluid dripped from them, and sometimes into them. Between the canals separating my fingers and thumbs, the clear liquid continued seeping through

My knees were weak, but I straightened them out as I furiously swiped away the last of the lacrimation from my eyes before I cleared my nose with a strong inhale through both the nostrils.

"It is too risky. It is not a risk I am willing to allow. Peace has come at last, and all the monster ion the world, the great monsters, have been dealt with. No longer do they have a place they can hide and thrive again. Nowhere for monsters like us to exist. Lelouch vi Britannia no longer has a place to exist in the new peace wrought by my demise. Lelouch vi Britannia brought chaos, a final chaos, upon the world. Peace only blossomed the day the Demon died."

. . .

\- _Ha-hahaha-hYahahahahahahaa. Hahahahaaa haaahahahahaha-haha. Hahahaha._ -

The Caretaker . . . was laughing?

This omniscient being was trying to cover her mouth with one hand, and her eyes were shut to close off the tears. Such display of emotions, it was just too human to comprehend in its entirety. Though she wasn't making a sound through her lungs, her mind was all too clear and resonating that it could not have been missed or mistaken.

I was unsure whether to be amazed, or down right insulted for bleeding my heart only for it to be a source of comedy.

"We hold no concept for joy or pleasure, and yet we are smiling. We question whether it is amusement or satisfaction which creates this possibility, but we understand very little of ourself to be able to certify such a hypothesis."

"I really do not understand you."

I placed my hand over my forehead as a curtain for my eyes as I looked downward and shook my head.

Then she spoke, but

"No Geass. No Code. No sakuradite. No F.L.E.I.J.A. That can be arranged."

My pupils shrank into a sea of white and red veins.

"What?"

Her head turned swiftly, and her long bangs flowing in front of her ears flew across her shoulder, until they slowly slipped and fell down again.

"Our offer stands. There is no alternative nor rejection of our proposal. However, your assumptions are correct. Returning you back to the world you came from is problematic for you. So, a compromise will be made; another world separated in space, on a parallel time."

"Don't tell me I'll be contesting with mythical beings, collecting a harem, and defeating the demon king in one hundred and fifty chronicles. Physical exertion has never been my strongest forte, and neither do I like the idea of using a power like Geass again if I could help it."

Perhaps I spilled my heart out a little too much, but I did seriously worry. I never read any myself, but Rivalz made a habit out of collecting memorabilia from the old Japan with a portion of the money he had earned by himself, or his cut from my own chess games. Most of which included the more, let's say, "questionable content" only found in Japanese manga and the occasional anime.

His preference was the _isekai_ (another world) genre, and especially the ones with plot as he called it. The acronym, not the noun. I never saw value in them as informative let alone entertaining, and yet I would have to listen on end even with half attention on our many rides through the Tokyo Sector highways.

In addition, I would also like to remind you of the track record of one hundred and eight royal consorts the late emperor had. Even if he had been a decent father at the very least of his capabilities, there was just never enough parental nurturing that was available for us all. Whichever way you interpreted, I would never wish to build a harem, even if polygamy wasn't a crime in every country except one if you were head of state.

And as if I would ever allow myself to become my father in many ways than one. I would rather slit both my wrists and wallow toward death neck deep in the bath before I would let myself fall even to a fraction of his level.

I appeared to amuse her again, though not to the same extent as I had done whilst impartially ranting on about the factors of my reality that I believed made my world as detestable as it had been.

"We could never bring fantasy into being. The world is not decided by us. However, the concept that while time remains unchanged, and space itself must also follow this law. Space-time is different. While it cannot be changed by our intervention, it in itself already changes without our meddling."

"I never did like attending class, but I will listen to this."

Her left hand reached out, and her index finger moved like a dagger through my chest. There was no pain, but her hand did indeed move through my internal organs like some eerie feeling from a spectre's blades.

"With no Geass, no Code, no sakuradite, and the means of which neither Knightmares nor F.L.E.I.J.A.s can hope to exist. Without our indirect intervention, human advancement would be more primitive by comparison for many generations. A world without Geass. Without Code. Without sakuradite. Without the intervention of the tools that shaped the world you knew, you shall live again."

Her hand was retracted slowly, and the discomfort subsided with it. I almost exhaled from the new relief, but I used my breath for other means.

"There exists such a time and place?"

"It does exist. A world where the effects of Geass and Code have long since been buried in this time. A world where the earth is not rich in the mineral known as sakuradite, which even years from now will never be synthesised by the hands of men. Within the parameters you yourself have chosen, we will send you there now."

She swept her hand over the area in front of her, and directly between the two of us before I could speak out after processing the fullest extent of her plans. The thin layer of fog beneath our feet moved for a short time after the strong winds cats them away, and the reflective floor was visible again.

But that was not what felt the strangest.

"Huh? W-w-w- . . . "

Before I understood in its entirely the notion of what the Caretaker was offering, I felt the weight of my feet suddenly being stripped away from me, and then I was looking at myself floating at least a few centimetres from the floor as I was slowing beginning to slowly ascend.

Gravity appeared to change as my feet suddenly felt the weight of the world pulling me toward it and where my feet stood previously was now my ceiling as I continued to fall upwards as the starry night world began to grow smaller and smaller before my eyes.

I couldn't claw out toward it as it escaped my fingers, but the Caretaker's voice continued to speak to me as I fell toward the overheading new darkness that was erupting below me.

\- _Live the life you could have had. From we who have lived countless times over numerous existences, that is all we can offer as a send-off. One last word; to utilise your full potential. Strive to fulfil that purpose this time around. Farewell to you, Lelouch vi Britannia. Farewell to the Demon Emperor, the Man of Miracles, the Saviour of God and Man. Farewell to you, first Zero. Find fortune in your new existence, and live_. –

Soon she disappeared and then everything that was light fell further away as I swung my arms out toward it.

My words didn't reach out, but I was crying out for it to stop. This weightless tumbling I was now experiencing as an effect of my gravitational anchor being cut free without prior preparations. This new gravity that was pulling on me, but its noose was loose and constantly wandered and I found my flight through night a continuous somersault across a dispersing cosmos.

I spoke only silence, as my voice was carried from my throat into the endless void. I felt my entire limbs being stretched and distorted, and then I felt nothing. Like I was becoming nothing. After being forced watching the horrors of the F.L.E.I.J.A. swallow most of the Tokyo Sector before my eyes, it was the most terrifying experience of my life. Except, this time, I saw no possible step forward.

I had lost all chance of moving by my own two feet to fate, and I was powerless to stop it.

I reached the grip of death once again, and all my world disappeared for a second time.

My last memory, was a voiceless scream failing to echo through the thick blackness as it engulfed everything until there was nothing.

* * *

And thus, I came to this place. This new world, three hundred years behind in technology. Perhaps more. Despite time having no subject of reversing, this place was delayed for so long that two centuries were lost on the calendars upon my arrival.

Thrust into a new life, in a new universe. But the human element remained the same. And that was all I needed to survive in this new playing field.

No Geass to twist me. No Code to hinder me. No sakuradite to contend with me, which meant no knightmares to contest against. And especially no F.L.E.I.J.A.s to flip the world into the grip of chaos.

Or so I originally thought. But a hindrance to my previous life ended up showing up within my new lifetime through no one's fault save the meddling of another who should have remained beneath the rocks and rubble they were buried under.

I came to this new world screaming, or so the memories of another have recollected unto me. All I remember of the day I was reborn were a pair of forceps pulling me into this second life.

A couple of scars lining the outer line of my eyes to either side remind me of that day always. The crowds that celebrated my birth in the streets of the capital echoing the crowds cheering for my death in the last life.

My mother, my new mother, the Empress Eugénie de Montijo. The complication of my birth were a toll on her, and yet she and I both lived through it. And even years to come, she would remain one of the strongest people I would ever know.

My new father, the former Prince-President now Emperor, Charles-Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte. Regnal name, Napoleon III. He took me unto the balcony to the masses of the capital and presented me unto them. Their " _Fils de France_ " (Son of France) he proclaimed, and they ate in the celebration with roars and applause.

I am the child that marked the continuation of an imperial dynasty.

The man I once was, Lelouch vi Britannia, 99th Holy Britannian Emperor, is dead. But I am alive.

I am Napoléon Eugène Louis Jean Joseph Bonaparte, Prince Imperial of France.

My old life was taken, and I was taken from my old world.

Given a new life, I shall forge a path in this new world. I shall gift this new world my audience.

By the grace and mercy of the Collective Unconscious, I shall not drown this new beginning in vain.

One day, I will show the world what I was meant to do.

One day, I will show these men, these people, what I am truly capable of.

One day, I will be Empereur again.

One day, I will be Napoleon IV, Emperor of the French.

Vive la France. Vive l'Empire.

 **16th Mars, 1856 AD. Paris, Second Empire Français**

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and review at your nearest convenience.**

 **I thought I would get this chapter written out before the new series aired. I am going to say that I think the idea he died worked better with the story, but I am willing to see if the third season works well with the decision they've made. I am also looking forward to watching that when it comes. I'm sorry this first chapter is so long, but**

 **What drew me to this was the endless streams of fanfictions where Lelouch (or another character) travelling back in time to redo the Black Rebellions. While I still read those, they do tend to get repetitive and are very similar in theme with time-travelling to redo over the entire series.**

 **I was randomly whizzing through Wikipedia one day several months before, where I came across Napoleon, Prince Imperial (1856-1879). What caught my attention was that his nickname among his family was "Loulou" (like Lelouch was called "Lulu" in the series). When I ended up reading more, there were a few similarities between the two; both being imperial princes, both ended up in exile, and both died relatively young. I also thought there might be a good story here if Lelouch were the one intervening in the coming wars in our reality, but I won't spoil anything.**

 **This will not be on my top priority for updating since I am already writing another series, and I will get to this whenever, but it may take a long time before the next update. I will try to incorporate as much as I can, but French isn't a language I am well versed in passed Primary School level.**

 **Well, until next time everyone. Bye!**


	2. The Prince's First Moves Part 1

**The following is a non-profit, fan-based AU story. [Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion] and all related serials are owned by Sunrise Inc., Taniguchi Gorō, Ōkouchi Ichirō, Animax, and Funimation. Please support the official release.**

* * *

"_" = Speaking.

'_' = Thoughts

( ___ ) = Translation/Other Meaning

[ _ ] = Personal Title.

["_"] = Speaking via Alternate Means.

{"_"} = Geass Command

 **Bold** = Date and Location

 _Italic =_ Other Narrative

* * *

 _When the young Prince Imperial was born, the city did gift him with a cradle that was wrought in arms of the empire his father reforged; wood and gold and bronze, heralded by an imperial Jovian eagle in flight to serve as his guide a front by his resting feet. The Goddess of Liberty herself, the symbol of the French people, offers up the crown to him from above where he grows tall enough to stand to nest it upon his head, and supported by two cherubs sitting atop until his shoulders were strong enough to bear their love. The Emperor wished to name his son the "King of Algiers" to grant his infant son and heir a regal title and land to which he could hold as his own, but it was abandoned after the hysteria cooled a short while after._

 _On the 14th Juin that same year he came into the world, the Prince Napoleon was baptised under the Roman Catholic Church in the sights of God at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame. The Cardinal Patrizi arrived from the Vatican by order of the Pope himself to baptize this child who was to become the godson of the Bishop of Rome, Pius IX. The Queen of Sweden Josephine, whom was named for her grandmother the first Empress of France and wife to the first Napoleon, came as representative of prince's godmother, the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland who could not attend as the head of the Anglican Church. The Queen of Spain knighted the imperial prince into the Order of the Golden Fleece, as his father was, as well as his grandfather and his great-uncles before him, following a tradition of many Bonapartes ago. All the royalty and friends of Paris paid in tributes to the heir of the Empire, some with gifts, and others in blessings under the eyes of heaven._

 _The church of_ _Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois_ _held written record of his baptism, for which he was simply transcribed as "Son of France", as it was in the old regime. As it always would be, engraved as it was so deeply in his heart._

 _The prince was a curious child as he grew into a boy; always wanting to learn more about the world. His passions lie in learning of history, geography and languages, more specially was his ability to easily pick these subjects up with great ease. According to his tutors, he was a less than model student, but he never failed a test that was set before him. When accused of cheating, he would offer to retake it under different condition and still he would obtain flying colours. It was more than just ingenuity that the prince had inherited from God, it was the Wisdom of Solomon itself._

 _His highness was easily bored of the classroom. Bored of the issues that gave him great ease. He sought adventure; for the world that lie beyond his confines of the palace gates. He wished not for the luxurious and flowery gardens, but for the lands of France and the beyond. People look upon a child and they uncertainly see a good future. When they looked at the prince, it was great ambition burning like a flaming sword in his hand that would bring about a new era._

 _The emperor saw not another Bonaparte king in his infant son, but the next Napoleon._

\- Pinard, Jean-Claude (1956), "The Life of Napoleon IV"

* * *

 **25th Octobre, 1862 AD. Palais des Tuileries, Paris, Second Empire Français**

"Your highness. Please cease this tomfoolery this instant and return to your lessons!"

It has been six years and six months since I came to this new world, which is now also my physical age. I cannot say the same for my mental age though as it turned out that despite being equipped with everything I had already learned in a previous life, it was not as simple as simple sitting up after a nap and walking. No. My entire being had regressed in my slumber between lives.

Safe to say that it was the oddest experience being fully aware that my motor, communication, and processing skills had reset to nought the moment my consciousness woke up. Teeth was another thing that had vanished, and it was painful having to go through the process of sprouting them again. When your whole mouth is aflame, there is no other greater pain and nothing you can do can hold back the tears in such dire agony.

I'll save the most boring of details about what I was like growing through baby to toddler, and up until now. The only really important events that need to be conveyed were that I started speaking at ten months, after my incisors had finished growing through and I could make the remaining sounds I needed to say words with minimal accuracy. Thankfully all my food was yogurt or porridge-like that it just slid down my throat so long as my tongue and cheeks didn't shift and spill it passed my lips.

It didn't help that most of it was not exactly what one expects to taste from French cuisine.

Before that, I was stuck with only 'a', 'o', 'u', 'm', 'h', 'p' and 'b', and a gargling that was a cross between 'k' and 'g' but I couldn't properly distinguish or separate the two. 'n' and 'l' didn't come until I had properly relearned how my tongue worked.

By six months I could sit without falling over, which then turned into rolling and crawling at eight months. I crawled at nine months, before standing at ten months. By the time thirteen months came, I was walking. It wasn't slow development, but it wasn't quick either despite my advantage of having muscle memory from my previous life already. My problem was that I had no control over my muscles to imprint the memories unto. My motor skills were only an average development by the standards of my previous modern society, however that didn't stop the showers of praise I received from all my peers.

Through the halls of the palace where my father the Emperor, my mother the Empress, and I resided, I fully making use of my smaller size to slip in and out through the servants who made their rounds down the corridors. It was around ten o'clock, so I knew it would be especially busy as breakfast was cleared and lunch was being prepared, as well as other morning duties just about finishing up.

For Mrs Shaw, my governess, this was the worst place to be chasing after me. But she was not inclined to learn quite as well as she was trying to force me.

"Your Highness, enough of these games! Return to your studies immediately!"

I took a sharp turn into my father's study. He wasn't there to occupy it, but that mattered little when I had already lost her in the crowd. There was a corner that she would easily be misled into believing I had followed, and then I would be liberated for the rest of the morning. I hoped.

The reason I was running was a simple one; I could learn nothing that I already didn't know.

I cannot decide if it was just because my inheritance of past experience and knowledge was contributing to my large disinterest with the curriculum I was assigned to undertake as part of my education. It didn't help that my education was built around my physical age and not my mental age.

Although my body was that of a six year old, if I added my age from when I previously lived, my mind was twenty-four. I had the mental maturity of two and a half decades encased within my half a decade old cranium, and yet the only problems I was allowed to contend with was made for someone who was really a quarter my mental age, not that anyone knew or could be convinced to understand:

Maths. Please don't make me spell out the tediousness in simple addition and subtraction. I was calculating angles, volumes and areas for battle strategy for two years, and even before them I was completing high-school level maths tests at top mark levels without even needing to properly study. If I had to run through another run through adding and subtracting single digit numbers, I am going to throw something out the window and calculate how long it takes before it actually causes a ruckus.

Science. Ninety-three chemical elements were present on the periodic table as of this year. Not too bad as I had predicted, except I could name the remaining twenty five they didn't already know about. My only saving grace was that the non-existence of Sakuradite, aka "chemical symbol Sk, atomic number 148", and based on the level of research in this time period, it wouldn't be discovered for another two hundred years with any luck. But even as a synthetic element meant that it would be in the shortest of supplies, so I was pleased to know that as well. Not enough to warrant a large enough weapon of mass destruction.

Geography. There was little I needed save for the current borders established by nations, although I had to be re-educated after the Italian Wars of Unification also gave Savoy and Nice to our nation of France in 1860 in return for cooperation in Lombardy. Names of nations was also a priority, but most of them had survived from the pre-Napoleonic war eras, so catching up wasn't a chore. Apart from that, the geology was largely the same apart from lack of a certain non-existent mineral in this universe.

Religious Studies. An unfortunate necessity. Unlike my world where people rely closer to matters of the world, this place is still so sought out for hope that religion is still a pleasing crutch for the general populace. At the very least understanding what motivates the people's hearts could still be invaluable. It doesn't exactly help that I cannot picture their God being anything remotely similar to the real deal I had the privilege to meet in person.

I would have used the word "pleasure", however I am still internally rating my past experience.

Art. That was always more of Clovis' expertise anyways. I had acquired some skill needed to pull off certain images, but I would hardly apply that to spending endless hours with a brush trying to recreate endless numbers of colours just to run out of paint and have to find the shade all over again. But, I sat still when _Herr_ (Mr.) Winterhalter came to create a portrait a year after I was reborn. I would have been the perfect muse for my physical age had it not been for his need for dynamism and just consistent fine tuning that was gnawing away at my patience.

Had he not been so well commissioned by most of the royals in Europe, I would have treated him to the biggest spectacle an ill-tempered infant was capable of producing just to rub it in. In addition, Mother was a constant and generous sitter for many of his portraits, and I really didn't have the heart to consciously do that if it would upset her. Nor did I have the will.

History. Now that was one subject I required urgently. This was a very different timeline than the one I was born into the first time around;

My biggest confoundment came from learning of no such legendary figure as Alwyn ever had existed. The first supposed [Holy Emperor of Britannia] apparently never made any mark on history if he was ever alive, which as a supposed descendant in another life did somewhat break my heart to hear a little. The only verifiable substitute was a leader known as Nennius that supposedly duelled against Julius Caesar and won his sword, but died fifteen days later. I had no way of confirming whether Alwyn was Nennius or if both were just figments of semi-legendary constructions.

In addition, several supposed kings who made up the previous ninety-two Brittanian Emperors during this period never held the crown or didn't exist within this timeline also. I had been the shocked to discover that another of my ancestors, Sir Carl FitzBritannia, [1st Duke of Britannia] didn't exist either, and thus neither had Ricardo von Britannia who founded the Holy Britannian Empire in the Americas. This sort of discovery made me question whether my ancestors had all used Geass to their own ends to secure their legacies at one time or not. The evidence piling up was making this possibility all the more likely.

Speaking of the lands which had become Britannia in my old world; Washington's Rebellion, or better known in this timeline as the American War of Independence succeeded where it could not even begin in full swing in my previous world. The bribery of a peerage to the traitorous Benjamin Franklin never succeeded, or perhaps it was never orchestrated here. Either way, the war incurred and the support of foreign powers in France and Spain, the newly dubbed United States of America broke away from the British Empire to become the nation they had always sought to become.

Although, there would be more on that a little later.

The European Unification Wars, or the Napoleonic Wars, on the other hand had failed; the victory of Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson at Trafalgar secured the continued presence of the British in Europe even after the continent was dominated by the French Empire. A failed campaign into the heartland of the Russian winter was enough to reignite the successive coalition that dethrones the Emperor and sent him into exile.

Unlike the disposition of the Imperial House of Bonaparte in the Europa Civil War of a.t.b. 1921-1929, there was no lifelong empire for the Corsican general who again tried to rise, but was defeated in 1815 at Waterloo, just as he had been by the newly forming Britannia. General Lord Arthur Wellesley, [Duke of Wellington] fought and defeated him as he had done in my previous world, only this time with the aid of the Prussian General Gerhard Leberecht von Blücher and the continental troops, he survived and sent the general to exile in St. Helena for the remainder of his days.

That same general who founded the entity of corrupt democracy that became Euro Universe, is also my great-uncle in this reality as it so happened.

Despite being exiled to the Island of Elba between Corsica and the Italian Peninsula in 1812, he escaped and retook the throne in 1815. Though he failed at Waterloo, he wasn't killed, but sent ot exile once again to the Island of St. Helena off the coast of South West Africa. He died in 1821, possibly as a result of cancer, or by poisoning. His remains were brought back to France in 1840 by the last French King, Louis-Philippe, and buried at Le Invalides.

His son, whom was only styled Napoleon II for fifteen days, was raised as an Austrian prince since he was a year old, even granted the title [Duke of Reichstadt] but never was he allowed to return to France again nor refer to himself by his given name. Not as Napoleon, but as Franz. He died at the age of twenty-one in 1832, after catching pneumonia, then later contracting tuberculosis. His body still remains in Vienna.

After his death, the head of the Bonaparte family fell to Napoleon's eldest brother, Joseph who briefly reigned as both [King of Naples], and then as [King of Spain] before fleeing to the United States. As a monarch, he was relatively liked by the Neapolitans, but loathed by the Spaniards considering the conquest of their homeland had been one that originated in betrayal and overthrowing. He died in Florence in 1844 a rich man after selling off priceless paintings looted from the Spanish royalty in the Americas, and is now buried beside his younger brother in Paris.

Following him was Louis, my grandfather and brief [King of Holland]. Unlike Great-Uncle Joseph, he was a moderately better king, so much that the Dutch still call him [Louis the Good] to this day. His attempts to speak Dutch and respect for their culture and sovereignty earned him a loyal following, and a joking nickname the [ _Konijn van Olland_ ] (Rabbit of Holland) as a humorous nod to his initial inability to properly say _Koning_ (King). He was forcibly removed from the throne not by the coalition, but by Napoleon himself after putting the Dutchmen's concerns before the French, and lived out exile in Austria, before dying in Livorno in 1846.

My father, Charles Louis-Napoleon, was the third child of my grandfather, however his elder brothers Napoleon Charles and Napoleon Louis had predeceased their father, and thus he became the next head of the House of Bonaparte. After the fall of the French monarchy, again, in 1848, the country was once again a Republic. In the elections that same year, my father won an outright majority of 74.5% of the votes, though not through a successful political career but because of a famous name.

I do not hear much of my father's tenure at president, only that he was the first and last of the Second Republic; he stood for his four years, but he wished to change the constitution so that he may be re-elected, and it was denied to him every chance he tried. From what I have gathered, he organised a coup and arrested the six opposition leaders, and later put down insurgents, who tried to take control during the chaotic situation, with military might. After the city fell back into peace, he called for a referendum to restore the empire with him as [Emperor of the French].

Surprisingly, or not since that was ten years ago now, from a 79.8% turnout, 96.9% voted in favour of restoring the imperial monarchy. And so my father took the regal name, Napoleon III, and restored the Second French Empire. Etc. Etc. Etc.

. . . Forgive me if I had bored you with all that information to no ends. To me, this was all a necessary re-education if I was to apply this world's history into consideration over the old history that was no longer relevant to this new world.

Miss Shaw, heavens forbid I ever remember her given name, is my governess. She is also the woman who had been chasing me. A better description would be my nanny. The way she continues to prattle on endlessly about my education. Although she was a nanny by recommendation of my Godmother, Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom, she was rarely called upon for her services. My education had all been prearranged with my mother having full say and supervision. Miss Shaw doesn't even live at the Palace because her services are not even required most days.

Her main task, apart from babysitting me almost every other day of my known life when my parents required other attentions, was tutoring me in English.

Apart from having to reacquaint myself with archaic words that were starting to go out of fashion like "thou" and "art" which some people insisted on keeping, more vowel sounds that were still present in British English that were merging in American English supposedly, and reusing "hw" sounds with words that begin in "wh", English was as easy to relearn after having been my previous primary language in my last life. Not that I didn't question her credentials on a few grammarly topics.

French had been a little trickier to start off with, and not because it wasn't a language I was previously familiar with, but because this universe's French was different than the EU's French that had a lot more German and Italian and Spanish words and sounds intermingled to accommodate the common European identity as it was supposedly trying to accomplish.

Thankfully, it wasn't like anyone wasn't expecting a newborn child to suddenly become fluent in their "first language" overnight, so I had plenty of time to pick it up by watching everyone around me speaking. I wonder whether my Japanese would be any good in this time should it ever be useful. That was, if the time was still concurrent and nothing too terrible has happened to either Kyoto or _Edo_ (Tokyo).

My father's study was always open to me, even when he was conducting business or with other officials. I would have been inclined to inform my father how poor conduct it was to allow a six year old to freely wonder about his private workplace unattended and freely open his letter without his consent, without any such retributions being made in discipline.

I would have, had I not been that child. After wandering once by accident, only to be warmly greeted by the one hundred guards in his cabinet, which of course made me more inclined to enter whenever I so wished, even when my father had distraction elsewhere. Sometimes especially when he was elsewhere and his cabinets were ripe for plundering.

He didn't even seem to mind if I opened his letters addressed from the King of Italy with a pair of scissors. Mother on the other hand was the one who exercised any formal discipline. I disliked it, but I understood its necessity.

Unlike the Emperor of Britannia and the 5th Imperial Consort, my mother and father were many times better at fitting the description of parents; both were actively involved in my upbringing. I was their child, not their pawn. They were relatively well balanced and they were dutiful with their country.

Call it a child's bias to his parents, but I had seen the absolute worst in many people before. There was no need to draw a graph to compare the two

'Dear, oh dear. Father, what are you planning?'

As I fiddled across his letters, I found one that had been drafted and then scrapped. Not just the once, but several times it would seem. The address was the same; all were written to one Prince Maximilian of Austria, and all matters concerned the Mexican war.

In short, a year ago our country started sending our fleets to the Gulf of Mexico to impose that the Mexicans started to pay back their debts. As it turned out, Britain and Spain had the same idea, and so it then evolved into a coalition blockade.

However, my father's ambitions seemed to get the best of him, and now our country is at war. Considering our troops are now landing within the month at Veracruz, and the British and Spanish have largely gone home, this is basically an invasion now. This became no longer about debt collecting, but now it's to establish a second Mexican Empire on the continent. So far, we are making ground, but that's because the Mexicans are also turning on each other.

I wouldn't say that this war is a win; we have gained ground, but only on the southern coasts of the gulf. As long as supplies can be consistently unloaded and the troops remain able, then this should be an easy victory. I emphasise easy, because that will only be so if the status quo remained unchanged. But, that is never a certainty in war, when the coin can suddenly flip onto its other side and the table turns with it.

Now, back to the Austrian prince. It appeared that not only he, but by a couple more letters of description from one Gutierrez de Estrada, were offering the yet non-existent throne to Prince Maximilian to solidify a permanent monarchy in the Americas. I couldn't help but laugh a little at this level of arrogance that they had both already believed they had won when they only occupied a small section of coast when compared to the larger extents of land still held by the newly dubbed Mexican Republicans.

Still, considering territorial expansion of the United States in the recent years now having reached the opposing coast, having a counter-country established as a barrier was a better solution. The Mexicans had already lost one war with the Americans, if they ever fought another war like that I wouldn't be surprised if their country was suddenly erased from the maps.

That's what the Holy Britannian Empire did at least. Then again, the Britannians had also owned all of Canada in that other world, so going south was always the next logical step. That, and crossing into Beringia via Alaska, but with the current level of technology it wouldn't be the most feasible of terrains to traverse with a large military force.

I had heard of my father speaking to both ambassadors to Austria and Mexico, and it seemed that other powers were throwing some small consideration toward support without being too open about it. Perhaps it's the old ideals of aristocrats and monarchs that a country is decidedly better when there is a head of state with regal power. No much certainty in anything, but it keeps my brain working to its proper functions.

'Unlike the education they set up for a child. This, is worth much more of my tim-.' "Hya!"

I felt the weight of my own legs vanish and two hands hoisted me from under my arms. I initially panicked at the thought of that crone having found me too easily. But no. I was almost relived to find that the hands were gloved and the owner was masculine.

"My prince. When will you learn that Miss Shaw goes into grey hairs the moment you wander off from her lessons?"

Xavier Uhlmann, my personal servant or a better title of position would be _mon Ombre_ (my shadow); He was my own personal valet assigned to watch me like a hawk since the first New Year after I was immediately born. He was an ex-Dragoon, a mounted rifleman, but was charged with following me around wherever I ended up wandering off at the age of only twenty-nine in 1857.

He never told me why he was no longer in the military after having become a civil servant only shortly becoming my valet, but I suspected an injury of some sort which he felt ashamed to speak of was keeping him from the rifles. He did seem to have a bit of a limb in his left shoulder, which made carrying me a bit of a torment for long periods. Yet I never head him once complain.

And, I noticed as my head drew closer to his face the sign of a few scars to his left cheek bone, and partially cloudiness to his amber eye on the same side, which may be creating residual blindness.

He had been assigned to my side since the moment my feet were touching the ground. And now, my feet was strutting loose from the ground after he had picked me up. I was most certainly not amused.

"It would help if she wasn't so dull and boring to make conversation with" I said. "She tires easily from my questions and insists that I sit through tedious and mundane subjects that are too immature for me. Then, she takes credit for my excellence in academics when I had learned of them from other external sources free from her influence."

"Well, Miss Shaw is too old to change her ways. Unlike you, my prince, who must make yourself into a better man who knows not to run from women."

I rolled my eyes to his statement. The man was not married and yet he thought that understood women any better than I? Well, looking at a child who was too young in his eyes to even be remotely interested in that kind of . . . mature aspect, he probably had every reason to simply assume.

"Women are unsurprisingly scary, Jevy. I am to be emperor, and yet her methods are trying to mould me like another cog on the factory line."

The nickname "Jevy" was part of my earlier attempts to say his name right. It had started with "Zeviyà", but it was then reduce to something more malleable as a nickname. Unsurprisingly, as I have already told before, vocal parameters was scarce during my first few years, and so many words were muffled or substituted with sounds that were similar that I could handle. Thus, "Jevy" was eventually conceived out of a serious of trials and errors.

I didn't wish to admit it, but I was slowly losing myself into this world. That may have been a good idea, however it hurt me internally about the daily memories of my previous world was chipping away like leaves on an autumn tree, until one by one it stands bear in the coldness of winter.

I remembered facts. I knew of statistics, and compounds and every literature or words that I had read. I look in a mirror and I hadn't forgotten my face, my old face. This face was different and sometimes it felt like a stranger was staring back at me. My hair was brown, but only slightly lighter than my original. My eyes, a pale shade of blue-grey like ice against steel. Just like Schneizel's were, and that sometimes gave me nightmares that I could become someone like him. Like _them all_.

If I squinted, I thought I might make them dark enough to look at least indigo, or even navy when I was most desperate. But it didn't.

I shouldn't had been surprised; purple was an exceptionally rare shade of colour for irises. Only the royals of Britannia were the ones who possessed eyes like those. In this world, it was rarer still. Blue was a rare colour if counted against all the browns and hazels in the world, but it was more common to those of European decent so it looked less special or certainly not unique.

These were my father's eyes. This was my mother hair. To have anything out of the ordinary would have looked conspicuous and may have called certain aspects of my parent's lives into the public's attention.

I'll speak more of that later.

Despite my most innate hatred of these lessons, having him carrying me now saved me from running around Palais des Tuileries more than I needed to. I wasn't out of shape like in my previous body, but at my height a few yards is like running a marathon after a while. Plus, if I was lucky, the crone would still be looking for me, and I could spared an extra ten minutes of her badgering. I would pray to God, but she/it would not listen. This would be far too amusing to disallow.

"I am surprised she has yet to capture you despite your habits for consistently in where you run."

"If you run hard enough at the right time, even an elephant could hide in a rabbit hole."

"What kind of literatures have you been reading this time, your highness?"

"None. I made it up."

He looked at me like my words had suddenly gone from the repetition of a great man's words to the making of insanity. He could have shrugged it off as a childish quip, but he had been around me too long to still treat my intellect as merely prepubescent.

"Then what is this speak of 'elephants' and 'rabbit holes'?"

"Just a metaphor."

"I know you are gifted with intelligence far surpassing your years, your highness. But, a metaphor as convoluted as that does not just spring to mind like that."

I smirked a little all the while being carried away. "It simply came in a dream."

"Your answer for everything."

"Should I say that God inspired my comparisons?"

His eyes darted a little, even if you weren't close enough to notice that his lids reacted a little to my retort. "I dare you not try and tempt the Lord in such a manner, my prince."

"I don't think it will mind."

"It?" this time, it was more noticeable to see his eyes flex open more. "My prince, God is male, for he is the father. I thought you were wiser than this? It is simple logic."

"But if God created man and woman in its own image, then shouldn't it stand to reason that God is neither and both? An 'it' so to speak. Isn't God beyond human understanding, so it would make sense for it to be neither man nor woman?"

Perhaps those Religious studies hadn't gone to waste entirely. Putting together bits and pieces from all over a single book and you had an easy counter for most arguments. Sure, this was an era where the world was enlightening beyond the view of God, yet this was still a world that depended on the idea and many people had been indoctrinated for too many generations to simply stop.

"I think you've been thinking too hard about this matter. Perhaps this is the sort of question for wiser men than yourself?" he replied.

"On the contrary; if I left this question with the clergy or the philosophers, then I would have no quiet time to myself whilst they argued and bickered for their own stickily restrictive thoughts rather than thinking beyond what is sense and what is not."

Self-proclaimed intellects all of them. One group spoke for God and the other for science, but neither of them were looking at the greater picture whilst they backed themselves into their corners. The middle ground was a far more sensible place to stand.

Actually, not sensible since you are under attack from both sides. Perhaps . . . more intellectually capable and available with the larger array of looking out onto.

Same with those self-righteous politicians; if you stood on the left or right wing, then the bird would flip over and government would spiral into chaos, and yet none of them ever thought to keep one foot on either side and instead had a rival stand there to bicker against. I am surprised the bird didn't throw the both sides off just to fly free from their consistent strife over which wing was better.

"I swear, I feel like I never speak with a child when I am with you, my prince."

"That's what I enjoy of our conversations, Jevy. You let me speak my mind. Aside from mother, father, Loucon, Chino, Rolo, Charlie, Victor, Arth-"

"Are you going to be finishing this list anytime this hour, your highness?"

"I wouldn't be calling you 'Jevy' if I didn't think highly of you. It would be a waste to give pet names to people you didn't like to make conversation with."

"My prince. I am deeply honoured that you think so highly of me."

Looking at it from a familiarising perspective, I would have to say the closest person from my old world he reminded me of was Jeremiah Gottwald. I could say that with a lot of certainty. But, only after he became my ally, and not when I was still taunting his apparent incompetence as a commander under the guise of Zero. When I was still calling him "Orange-kun" to where it was making his blood boil.

Ironically, the name of the city Jevy was born is called Orange, in Vacause to the south west of this country. I would call it coincidence as Jeremiah was born in the County of Orange, a part of the Grand Duchy of the Californias, however names alone are not enough to make complete parallels. I could do the same analytical comparison to a number of new people in my new life, but I knew that they would never be viable replacements.

And also, the two were not the same person. This was not the same world I left behind. Even if there were people whom I could draw parallels to, they were not the same people. My mother was not the 5th imperial consort. My father was most certainly not the 98th Emperor of Britannia. Just like I was not Lelouch. Not anymore in appearance at least.

My nickname however was still Loulou. Not taken from my first name, which was now Napoleon, but from my third name, Louis. After my grandfather, of course, even though he had long died before I was born. Though by reputation alone, I would have liked to have known the man. If not, to at least know with my own mind's eye if he was the man they were writing about, and not a poor character wrapped around in fantasist's verses meant to stuff him like a taxidermist's prop.

Everyone in my family, all those related to me paternally, all bore the name Napoleon. And why wouldn't they? The man who in a decade had Europe under his boot. The man who made the House of Bonaparte a royal dynasty. Even his own siblings added his name to their own as signifying his victorious feats as a part of their new identities.

"I would have said that I looked up to you" I then said as the mood turned too quiet, "but given my current height that is already something I'm doing to most people."

"You jest well, your highness."

I enjoyed still being able to have an adult conversation with people despite now being only six years of age.

But I suppose that you have been wondering a while why there is a contradiction in my previous recollection; I said that mother was the one in charge of my education, and yet I have been escaping Miss Shaw all this time. The reason why I was being tutored by Miss Shaw instead of my mother was a simple one that anyone in the country could answer; my mother was giving birth today to a younger sibling, if God was kind enough to grant it.

It was probably cruel of me to feign this level of ignorance to the situation when I was the one who had puppeteered it all to begin with. It was quite diabolical, but I had years of experience having reigned as a demon in another world. But, an imperial dynasty needed to be re-established, and my parents were certainly not making the time to do something of it. As a child, I heard more in these walls than was probably said aloud;

The estrangement of the Emperor and the Empress since my birth, following certain complications that came with how I was born. My mother was disgusted with my father in bed from what gossip the staff has spread in apparent empty rooms, which only played into my father's womanising habits and the siring of a number of illegitimates outside the palace walls. Press your ear long enough, and you'll hear the termites scurrying between the plaster and paper.

We were the laughing stock of the European monarchs, even within our own capital. Despite being related to the man who once held the entire continent on the palms of each of his hands with his thumb spare to squash any upset that may occur trying to roll from his fingers, all that we shared was a title and a name. There had not been one so accomplished as the first Napoleon. Not even one that I remembered

My father was not Napoleon I _le Grand_ (the Great). He had been to war, but he was not a general. He did not strategize nor engage in combat. He took credit, but it was the army that won the wars, and not his command of them.

Neither did he have the same tragic sympathy of his cousin, the King of Rome, Napoleon II _l'Aiglon_ (the Eaglet). My father may have won popular favours for having the right name and heritage, but his hold on the crown had always been one dependant on popularity. What most amazed me was how he managed to achieve all this despite being viewed as so incompetent.

Napoleon _le Petit_ (the Small). That was how he was revered, by the celebrated author Victor Hugo above all others. Not small because of his height, not when he was just as tall as any common man at the time, but his entire social impact as he called it;

My father was the new Bonaparte, and yet compared to his regal namesake, he had accomplished very little by comparison. Certainly, he was popular and he did well as a face for the public as they soaked in his grandiose and vision for the country. But he was not fulfilling the full requirements needed to maintain a reign. He held no great military accomplishments save for waging a couple of wars that by stroke of luck managed to turn to victory without his direct hand.

This expedition to Mexico could count, but that would have to be in the hands of Fortuna to see if his gamble could be won again.

My parents, for all they were doing out of duty, were neglecting a greater duty to their country in the aspect of securing the dynasty. Our immediate family was only the three of us, and while I admit the direct attention I consolidate for myself was advantageous and an indirectly selfish indulgence of mine, introducing a younger sibling or two was more important in this day and age.

Besides, perhaps I have taken to the mollycoddling too enthusiastically. I only had one last shot at being a child, and I tried to make the most out of it when I could knowing unlike other children that I would one day have to part from it.

I could do more. I _did_ more, using what advantages I had.

Alas, after five months of waiting, there was a flock of new whispers that started flooding the Palace halls, but only on the sixth month did my parent's officially declare that there was to be another child, which is now how we have ended up with this situation at present.

As we continued walking, or I was being carried through the corridors, the number of people we started passing appeared to significantly decrease.

I didn't have to meet the old bat for the rest of the day however, as the moment Jevy took me back to the room did the wet nurses come to inform us that the baby, my new younger sibling, had just been born.

Rather than being put down, I was again taken from the room in Jevy's arms and moved through the corridors towards the room of my parents. The rooms were empty and emptier as we walked back through, but then suddenly we came across a great gathering at the other end. Had I not been the Prince Imperial, I doubted I would have been able to weave through the crowd as easily with everyone deliberately moving aside to allow me in.

"Loulou" mother called out when she saw me, after I had managed to reach the front of the crowd. Despite how tired and disregarded towards her appearance, she didn't forget to smile. "This is your little sister."

Jevy placed me down on the ground as I started to slowly walk. The eyes in the room were focused to my approach.

I saw father there, standing by the bed side. I didn't know if he had been there the entire time, but he was already accepting handshakes from the foreign visitors he was entertaining that day. Probably took them on a tour of the palace before he heard of mother going into labour.

He took my mother's hand and kissed it, for the public viewing. I was not commenting on that they had no love between them, but marriage was almost like a contractual agreement to them. The kiss was a sign of a mandatory performance for the crowd to soak up.

I paid little more than necessary attention to the room as it seemed to vanish slowly along with everyone else in it. I just pressed forward a small toddler step at a time. Wrapped in a baby blue blanket, and a small trace of light brown hair growing over the top, my little sister was soundly asleep in m- _our_ mother's arms.

I pressed my hands on the edges of the quilt as I tried looking over her arm before she manoeuvred it to an angle where I could see her face. Her skin was still a tinge of pink, and there was very little about her that would really tell her apart if she were placed in a row of five or more.

But, my heart welled up. Times for another life I tried to keep buried and interact with minimally were suddenly brought to the forefront.

After all, I had always been an older brother.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Marie-Annonciade Jeanne Elise Victoria Bonaparte."

I almost regretted asking when all the words started spilling out at once. A mouthful of a name, as were many royal names in Europe. One the aspects of Britannian culture that was thankfully dropped which made life a great deal simpler. But considering the great number of children that the Emperor had to find names for, it looked more like a practical reason than anything else. I was honestly surprised that only I and Nunnally were among the minority with original names unlike the many other Imperial princes and princesses. Perhaps only because the 5th consort decided to put a little more effort.

From what I could remember; Marie-Annonciade was the French version of great-aunt Pauline's true first name, and Elise being the name of another great-aunt. The first two were probably father's choices for the sake of remembering the family and further tying us back to the first generation. Jeanne was probably a homage to the patron saint Jeanne d'Arc, of whom had been made an official symbol of France during the reign of the first Napoleon. As for Victoria, I could only guess that it was named for Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom who was my godmother and whom my mother was on very friendly terms with.

I wouldn't say friends, but their relationship was cordial to say the least. Though this was also probably a small part of father's plan to maintain good long term relations with the British Empire, but I would never have said it aloud.

But when I walked up to her, this tiny, fragile baby girl that was being passed from my mother unto the small cradle by the wet nurses, I could only stare at her from hanging on the sides. My eyes continued following her above all other happenings that were also going on within the confines of the room. I followed her as if there was nothing else.

She was silent, but asleep.

My fingers reached out to her, wanting to grab hold of her little hand. I felt like I was about to press against hard glass and fall forward that it made me all the more hesitant.

'It's like I'm reliving this memory again. This is truly déjà vu.'

My thoughts were right on the mark. This wasn't a simple bout of cryptomnesia. I had relived this scene before, though I had been much younger then than my current physical self-projected. A different time, place, and a different sister entirely.

I was of a different age then. I was only two both physically and mentally when my first little sister was born. I didn't remember that much, but there was so many similarities in what little I had that it was coming back to me. The memories, they plagued my movements with visions.

'This isn't her. It's not her.'

I had to keep telling myself that despite how it looked. I knew it as a fact. I knew that a great many people I had lost would never return to me again. Even if I may find those who appear similar to them, this was another time and place entirely. It would never be them

I couldn't reach out my hand any further.

Her hand instead took hold of mine without her even stirring. My intentionally hardened heart melted at the feel of her grip. It sounds too scripted or beyond realism for the sake of romanticising this memory, but I swear by the collective conscious that this was real. Everything I was feeling was real, not some figment for the occasion.

Then, one word escaped my mouth unintentionally.

"Nunna."

And thus, from a simple slip of the tongue, a nickname for a new princess was born.

My little sister.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and review at your nearest convenience.**

 **I said it would be some time until the next chapter, but I never expected to take nearly a year to get it out. I apologise for that, but a series of essays needed to be addressed before I could even consider tackling this and everything else I wanted to right.** **I rewrote this chapter nearly three-times over, trying to work out _where_ I wanted the story to go. Since the inevitable events that followed will need to be addressed I had to think how Lelouch would deal with the situations as they are thrown in his direction.**

 **This is actually only the first half, I didn't quite finish the second half in the time that I wished, so you'll be seeing that next week ( _maybe_ ).**

 **All the characters that will be appearing will be at the very least based on real** **people**. **The only exception to this is Marie-Annonciade aka "Nunna" who I added because I felt that it would be in Loulou's best interest to make a great significant change to the instability of the core imperial family.**

 **While on the subject, another thing I had to address was the inevitability ensemble of new characters that would be appearing. I thought that it might have been difficult for people to suddenly have to image all these new people when they are trying to familiarise themselves with this entire scenario. I was initially against the idea of making comparatives between existing characters in Code Geass canon and to these new historical ones. But as I was writing, I almost couldn't help but need these comparisons to think how these characters would act. Bit of a poor excuse, but I think it might work.**

 **Right now we have "Nunna" who needs no , and Xavier Uhlmann who is basically Jeremiah. There will be more later on for the characters who will be reoccurring and important enough and I will also inform you. If you hate it, tell me now and I will end it before it kicks off any further.**

 **Also, thanks very much to me reviewers: "Saint Sita", "Muse of Schleissheim",** **"OBSERVER01",** **"Imperatia",** **"Prodigal Knight",** **"MM Browsing", "CrazyFanYaya", "FuZzvKiNgZz", "Blacksword Zero", "Livelikeme123", "CromwellCruiser", and "Perseus12". I appreciate your time and words.**

 **To answer a few questions, here we go:**

 **\- To Muse of Schleissheim,** "He will only change what he feels needs to be changed. He won't try to directly enforce modernisation to his era's standards unless he feels it's in the best national interest." **  
\- To** **MM Browsing,** "Both; he will be primarily referred to informally as 'Loulou' (as opposed to his CG nickname Lulu), but I will not spoil how his old name comes into play."

 **Well, until next time everyone. Bye!**


End file.
